


steve harrington is a total slime.

by crownofcherries



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Assault, Canon Divergent, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, SUPER SLOW BURN FYI, Slow Burn, Stranger Things Season 1, Stranger Things Season 2, i try to stay pretty faithful though, since you’re here, so strap yourselves in, this is going to be very long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownofcherries/pseuds/crownofcherries
Summary: you’re taking major sleazeball here. the lowest of the low. the scummiest of the scum. the mere mention of his name makes your skin crawl and the bile rise in your throat.you can’t ever imagine having a crush on the major douchebag that is steve harrington, until you don’t have to.
Relationships: Steve Harrington/ Reader Insert, Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/Reader-Insert, Steve Harrington/You
Comments: 15
Kudos: 101





	1. 1

NOVEMBER 6th, 1983  
HAWKINS, INDIANA

“Something is coming.”

Mike Wheeler, while he may just be a 14 year old with what must be the cruelest joke of a bowl cut you’ve ever seen, had an undeniable flair for the dramatic. You may have come here just to babysit, but even teenage girls loved some good Dungeons & Dragons every once in a while, so you were hanging onto every word.

“Something hungry for blood.”

Without realizing, you found yourself leaning in to hear what he was saying. How could you not? The kid held a good campaign. It was captivating, and even though you’d rather be with Nancy, your best friend and Mike’s older sister, it was nice to let your nerdy side out. You don’t get to do this that often anymore.

“A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness.”

Three more 14 year old boys listen just as intently as you do. One has a particularly intense look on his face, wiping his nose with his hand as he stares Mike down. He has curly hair and a hat on, and might just be the goofiest, dorkiest, most embarrassing kid you knew. He’s also the reason you’re here with a group of middle schoolers rather than out with your friends like a normal seventeen year old girl. His name is Dustin Henderson, and he’s your little brother.

“It’s almost here.”

“What is it?” Will Byers, a sweet kid with wide eyes that reminded you of Bambi and a bowl cut that reminded you of the dishes you hadn’t done yet, spoke up next. A ghost of a smile was on his face, anticipating the reveal of the monster. Will was a cute kid, and sometimes you wish he was your little brother instead of the gremlin that is Dustin. (You say that, but it’s bullshit. You wouldn’t trade your brother for the world and you know it.)

You knew his older brother, Jonathan- you were lab partners. He was pretty quiet when you first met him back in middle school, probably because he was an easy target for bullies, but once you got paired up in chemistry you formed a fast and friendly relationship. You weren’t best friends, not by a long shot, but you always had fun when you were together in class. Sometimes you saw him outside of school, due to your brother and his being almost inseparable from their little group, and you always waved. He always waved back.

“What if it’s the Demogorgon?” Your brother was the next to speak, perking up as an invisible lightbulb seemed to flash above his head. His eyes widened. “Oh, Jesus,” he put his head in his hands, “we’re so screwed if it’s the Demogorgon-“

“It’s not the Demogorgon.” Lucas Sinclair, a black boy with short hair, cuts him off. He’s obviously annoyed. Lucas was nice, you guessed, but you didn’t really know him that well. Unlike Mike and Will, he didn’t have an older sibling that you were friends with. You always seemed to get on his nerves, like your brother, so you mostly just stayed out of his way. That was his problem, not yours.

“An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!” Mike slams down a piece onto the board as Lucas leans back in his chair with a smug smile on his face.

“Troglodytes?” Dustin quirks, barely holding back a laugh. You had to admit, it did seem pretty goofy. You shook your head, no longer invested in the silly game, and turned your attention back to the history textbook that was in your hands. You had a test the next morning, and since you’d slept through almost every one of Mr. Dawson’s awful lectures, you needed to cram like hell if you wanted to pass.

“Told ya.” Lucas laughs, and so do the rest of the boys. You can’t help but smile, despite the fact that you were on a passage about the Bolshevik Revolution. Their happiness was contagious. The laughter dies down after a little bit, and Mike becomes serious once again.

“Wait a minute.” His voice is soft, just above a whisper. You look up from your book- maybe the Bolsheviks could wait.

“Did you hear that?” He looks around the room, as everyone else waits with baited breath to hear his next words. If you leaned forward any more in your seat, you’d probably fall on the floor.

“That... that sound?”

Confusion grows on the boys’ faces, and you set your textbook under your chair. You could wake up early tomorrow morning. This was getting good.

“Boom...” Mike starts out quiet.

“Boom...” Confusion grows on the boys’ faces.

“BOOM!” He slams his hands onto the table, making everyone else jump.

“That didn’t come from the troglodytes. No that... that came from something else.”

He pauses for dramatic effect. The silence feels like a lifetime as the boys all look at each other, wondering what could be waiting for them. Even you were holding your breath- you had no idea where this kid got it from, but damn he was good.

“The Demogorgon!” He slams down another piece. You take a moment to examine it, picking it up as the others all groan. The small figurine looks nothing like a human. It’s got two legs, yeah, but that’s where the familiarity ends with this thing. It’s a monster with four tentacles and a tail, and not one but two ugly looking heads. You take a moment to thank whatever higher power is out there that this thing is just part of some silly game and not the real world.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dustin snatches the figure out of your hand before you can finish your prayer. “I told you not to touch anything!” You frowned. Usually the kid was sweeter, but the intensity of the game must have riled him up a little bit. You bite back a childish retort, instead crossing your arms and leaning back into your chair. “We’re in deep shit right now Y/N, and I need to focus.”

“Will, your action!” Mike jumps in before you can say anything, eager to get on with the game. You turn your attention back to the group, forgetting about the fact that you’re supposed to be playing the role of bitchy older sister right now.

Will shakes his head and lightly pounds his fists on the table. “I don’t know-“

“Fireball him!” Lucas yells as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but is quickly countered by Will.

“I’d have to roll a 13 or higher!” You sucked in a breath: those were pretty bad odds, and the kid seemed to have pretty shitty luck in just about everything. Dustin offers an alternative.

“Too risky. Cast a protection spell.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Fireball him!”

“Cast. Protection.”

Mike slams his hands down on the table, silencing the two boys. “The Demogorgon grows tired of your silly human bickering! It stomps towards you.”

Everyone looks at each other frantically, trying to think of what to do.

“Boom!”

Lucas is halfway out of his chair, leaning over the table.

“Fireball him!”

“Another stomp, boom!”

Dustin does the same, rising up and looking at Will.

“Cast Protection.”

“He roars in anger!”

Chaos ensues as Lucas and Dustin yell at each other, both now completely out of their chairs and in each other’s faces. You had to hand it to them- they were really, really into the game. The turmoil is interrupted as Will quickly throws his die onto the table, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“FIREBALL!”

The 20-sided die, thrown with all of the force a panicked fourteen year old could muster, bounced off the small table and landed somewhere on the ground. Everyone was immediately out of their seats, you included.

“Is it a 13?”

“I don’t know!”

Chairs were knocked over, couch cushions tossed, homework pushed aside. Nothing was safe from the shitstorm.

“Mike!”

Everyone was on the floor, desperately searching for the missing die.

“Mike!”

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Dustin paced back and forth, panic written plainly across his features.

“MIKE!” Karen Wheeler, mother to Nancy and Mike, opened the door that led down to the basement you and the boys currently occupied.

“Mom, we’re in the middle of a campaign!” Mike, who had previously been on the floor, was now on his knees and throwing his hands up in the air.

“You mean the end?” Karen tapped her wrist with her other hand. “Fifteen after.” She left the doorway, Mike running up the stairs after her.

“Oh, my God! Freaking idiot!” Lucas had his hands on the side of his head, still frantically scanning the room for any trace of the d20.

“Why do we have to go?” You heard Will sigh as you checked your watch- shit. You were supposed to have Dustin home ten minutes ago.

“Dusty, grab your stuff, we gotta go!” You quickly grabbed your car keys from the table, quickly wishing a goodbye to the other kids before rushing out to your car.

“Y/N, I didn’t even get to see what number it was!” Dustin ran behind you, hurriedly putting on his coat.

“I saw it.” You fumbled with the key, putting it into the door handle before unlocking it and getting in. You reached over to unlock the passenger side, Dustin getting in as you stuck the key into the ignition. “It was a seven.”

“You’re kidding me! All that for a fucking-“

“Shut up.” You stopped what you were doing. Your headlights were on- but you hadn’t started the car yet. “Did you see that?” You looked at Dustin, who seemed annoyed at having been interrupted.

“Did I see- no, I didn’t! All that hairspray must be going to your head or something.” He huffed, crossing his arms.

“Whatever...” You trailed off as you started your car, driving home. “It was probably nothing anyway.”


	2. 2

The sound of the heavy front door slamming shut woke you from your sleep, just in time for your alarm clock to go off. Rubbing your eyes, you fumbled around trying to shut off the source of the annoying blaring. After a minute or two of wildly flailing your arm around, you eventually hit the snooze button, snuggling back into bed before your eyes shot wide with recognition: you had a history test this morning that you desperately needed to study for.

You quickly hopped out of bed, fumbling through your closet and frantically looking for clothes that you deemed decent enough to wear for the day. You didn't have anyone to impress, so you just threw on the first t-shirt you saw and ran out of your room.

"Dustin!" You yelled as you rushed past your brother's door. "Breakfast!" The kitchen didn't have much in it, but after some scavenging you found a box of pop tarts, ripping open the shiny foil and sticking one in your mouth. You threw the other one onto the counter, shoving everything into your bag as your brother walked into the kitchen.

"Woah, what's the rush?" He looked at you for a second before his eyes landed on the poptart left out on the counter, grabbing it and immediately taking a bite out of it. "Earth to Y/N? Hello?" He spoke through a mouthful of blueberry pastry, crumbs spitting out of his mouth.

You were too preoccupied with getting your shit together to hear him. "Dusty, have you seen my history textbook?" You were searching every corner of your living room. You could've sworn you just had it. It wasn't like you to lose things so easily.

"The one you pretended to look at during our campaign?"

"Yeah, that one-" You realize you had left it when you rushed out of the Wheelers' house. "Aw, shit." You groaned, facepalming. Wait a second- you could just ask Nancy to bring it to school today. You rushed over to the telephone in the wall, quickly dialing the Wheeler household.

"Joyce?" A worried sounding Karen Wheeler picked up.

"No, sorry, it's Y/N. Can you tell Nancy to bring me my textbook to school? I left it in the basement-"

"Yes, but- have you seen Will? Apparently he's not at home. He's not here either, did he spend the night with Dustin?"

You froze. Will was definitely not with you guys. And if he wasn't at home, or with Mike, then where was he? You bit your lip, your gaze wandering over to the TV. The daily morning news was on, the anchor talking about a recent surge of outages or something- you weren't really listening.

"Hello? Y/N?"

Brought back to reality, you realized you hadn't responded yet. "No, no, he's not here. He's probably at school or something." Dustin was looking at you curiously, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Okay, well, have a nice day-" You hung up before Mrs. Wheeler could respond. Your brother was immediately standing up, wanting to know about the weird sounding call he only got to hear one side of. "What happened?"

You frowned. Did you really need to worry Dustin about this? After all, what if Will really was just at school? You didn't want your brother to worry, so you lied. "Nothing." He opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could. "Let's go."

The car ride to Hawkins Middle School was tense but thankfully short. Basically white-knuckling the steering wheel, you forgot about Will for the time being as you desperately tried to rack your brain for any remnants of the Russian history you skimmed the day before. You dropped your brother off without a word, and he ran over to his group of friends- that, weirdly, didn't include Will. Not that you'd noticed, though, since you had already parked and run into the high school without so much as a second glance in the direction your brother went.

The high school hallways were almost deserted as you walked in, quickly spotting Nancy at her locker. She was talking to Barb, a tall girl with huge glasses and short red hair that you didn't really know that well. A small part of you instinctively disliked her, because Nancy had recently started spending way less time with you and way more time with her. Forcing a smile, you walked over to the two.

"Hey Nance, hey Barb." Nancy held out your textbook without so much as looking at you, continuing her conversation with Barb as if you weren't there. You weren't gonna lie, that stung a bit, but whatever. You had a test to study for, so you didn't have time to feel bad.

"Well, uh." You fumbled with your words for a second, not even sure that the girls were listening to you. They seemed a lot more invested in the torn note in Nancy's hands than they were in you.

"...Thanks. Later." You quickly turned around, hugging the heavy book close to your chest as you made your way to first period.

You sighed as you sunk into your seat. The desk in question, one of those weird ones where the chair and the table are attached, was situated in the back left corner of the room. You always chose the seats in the back, careful not to draw the unwanted attention of any assholes who got bored.

"Harrington. You're late."

Oh, great. Speaking of assholes, here comes King Steve.

"Maybe everyone else is just early." He smiles that stupid smile of his, before sitting down next to his other asshole friends.

The comment gets a good chuckle from the class and a stern look from Dawson. You shake your head and quickly scan the cramped pages of your history textbook, the words all blurring together as the reality sets in that you are, in fact, so totally screwed on this test.

A paper airplane landed on your desk. Sighing, you unfurled it to read the writing that looked suspiciously similar to the writing on the note in Nancy's locker from earlier.

_I wouldn't worry too much about studying. You can always just suck Dawson's dick to get an A+ anyway, right?_

Crumpling up the paper, you tried to turn your attention back to Stalin and Lenin. Instead of focusing on dictators, however, your mind wandered to a certain dick.

It's not that you didn't like Steve.

It's that you hated him.

You were friends once- back in elementary school. Best friends, actually. The playground had never seen such a pair like the infamous Steve and Y/N. And it never would again. Nothing and no one ever would again, because as soon as you stepped foot into Hawkins Middle School, Steve ditched you for a stupid royal title.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad if he just ignored you. If he just pretended like you didn't exist, instead of the constant crude jokes and snide remarks he made to make his friends laugh. But it hurt. A lot. You were used to it now, though.

Shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch, you slammed you textbook close with more force than intended before shoving it in your bag. Apparently the sound was louder than you thought it was, because when you looked back up, most of the class had turned around to look at you. So much for not drawing attention.

You angrily locked eyes with Steve, who smirked and opened his mouth- only to get cut off by Dawson, who asked the class to clear their desks.

Hating Steve could wait. You had a history test to fail.


	3. 3

Chemistry with Kaminsky had to be the closest thing you'd ever experienced to literal, actual hell.

The class was full of people you either didn't know or didn't like, so you didn't really talk to anyone. The subjects were always boring and complicated- you were smart enough to grasp what Kaminsky was talking about if you tried, but not smart enough to actually try to pay attention. A couple of Steve's followers liked to taunt you every once in a while, but today they seemed preoccupied. Today was proving to be horrifically boring.

The only saving grace came to you in the form of Jonathan Byers, but even then, something was off about him today. You waved to him as he walked in and sat down. He didn't wave back.

Normally calm and collected, his leg was bouncing so aggressively that your shared desk was shaking. He stared blankly at the blackboard, but you could tell his mind was somewhere other than balancing equations right now. Pretending to focus on your notes, you subtly slid your attention over to his hands, which were clenched into fists so tight you thought he might end up breaking his hand.

Yeah, something was definitely wrong. You thought back to earlier- Karen had mentioned something about Will, hadn't she? You couldn't recall the finer details, since at that point in time you were too busy worrying about Dawson's test to actively listen to what Mrs. Wheeler was saying, but you did remember the anxiety in the tone of her voice. And here was Jonathan, Will's older brother, looking the most anxious you'd ever seen him.

You looked back up to the board, wondering what you should do. Was it really your place to pry? Jonathan was your friend, yeah, but you weren't best friends by any means. The only reason you even started talking to each other was to escape the hellish boredom of chemistry class. What if you were being too nosy? Will was like your own brother at this point, though. You two had formed a close bond. Wasn't it your right to know what was wrong?

"Jonathan?" You spoke quietly, voice just barely above a whisper. The last thing you needed was for Kaminsky to get on your case for talking during a lecture. He didn't respond, so you reached out to gently touch his arm.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in, looking over at you with hollow eyes. You hesitated, quickly pulling your hand back. The most heavily guarded person you knew was looking at you with genuine pain. He's never been this easy to read before. He's never looked so... vulnerable.

"I, uh..." You trailed off, unsure how to proceed. The poor boy looked like he was about to break. "Are you okay?" Concern laced your voice, and your gaze darted over to the front to make sure Kaminsky hadn't noticed before quickly returning to Jonathan. "It's just- I heard something about Will, and..."

He looked down and uncurled his hands, now red from how tightly clenched they were. Now that they weren't in fists, you could see how much they were shaking. "Jonathan..."

His eyes hardened and he looked to the door before looking to you. "In a second I'm going to go to the nurse, okay? A couple minutes later you're going to ask to go to the bathroom." He didn't give you a chance to respond, instead gathering his stuff and quickly leaving the room. Stunned, you sat there for a moment before following his lead.

Kaminsky let you out without a fight- when questioned about why you needed your backpack, you simply blamed it on "lady problems" before rushing out into the safety of the hallway. Jonathan was waiting for you, anxiously shifting his weight between his feet. As soon as he saw you he started off towards the front doors of the high school, leaving you to awkwardly jog in order to catch up with him. You could practically feel the tension radiating off the guy, so you elected to keep your mouth shut for the time being.

No one stopped the two of you as you silently made your way over to where Jonathan's car was parked. For some weird reason, he never bothered to lock the doors, so you went ahead and got in. Hearing the crinkle of paper, you realized you sat on something, but froze when you held up the poster.

_Have you seen me?_

It didn't take a genius to put it all together.

Will Byers was missing.


	4. 4

Castle Byers was the shoddiest attempt at a fort you'd ever seen, but you could tell it was forged with love. Jonathan had built it with his brother years ago, and it was home to so many warm and fuzzy memories that you could forget about the crude construction. You haven’t been there in a while, probably because Dustin had reached that magical age where girls are gross and stupid- nowadays the only time you hung out with him and the others was when you had to babysit. Otherwise, he didn’t want you around his friends, so you didn’t embarrass him or something. Middle school boys were weird like that.

Now you found yourself there once again, but this time the air around you wasn’t warm and fuzzy. It was cold and tense, and the air around you felt suffocating. The sky was dark and cloudy, signaling that rain would fall soon, and the woods were eerily quiet. The scene felt like it was straight out of a horror movie. 

You weren’t scared that easily, but it was pretty spooky. It put you on edge, so much so that you jumped as Jonathan stepped on a twig, clutching your hand to your chest in an effort to calm your heart. He offered an apologetic smile as he reached past you, opening the door to Castle Byers to see if Will was hiding there. 

He wasn’t. 

You both expected this, obviously, but Joyce Byers had insisted that the two of you check anyway. You shared an uneasy look with Jonathan when she initially suggested that you go- it wasn’t like Will was playing a game of hide and seek. But the woman was starting to get almost hysterical, so you quickly made your way out of the Byers house and into the woods.

You didn’t really blame her for having hope. After all, her son was missing. If you wanted to be realistic, though, Will was probably.... no. You couldn’t go there.

Even now, you could tell Jonathan was still hoping that his brother would pop out- that this was all a trick, that Will Byers was just really, really, good at hiding. You had to admit that you deflated somewhat when you saw that Castle Byers was empty, too.

But Will wasn’t here, so that meant he had to be somewhere else. And that meant you had to keep looking.

Eventually, after hours of wandering around aimlessly, the two of you return to the Byers household. Joyce seemed to be having an... interesting conversation with someone on the phone, so you quickly and quietly walked past her and into the living room. Jonathan motions for you to sit down, running a hand through his hair and looking over in the direction of his mother. 

“Bitch!” You flinch as Joyce slams the phone back into the wall. 

“Mom.” Jonathan speaks gently, and the woman quickly turns to her son. 

“What?!”

“You have to stay calm.” His voice is even and controlled as he tries to reason with the frantic Joyce. She just laughs before reaching out to dial another number. 

You try not to listen to what she’s saying to whoever’s in the line. You felt like it was somewhat of an invasion of privacy, so you looked at Jonathan. He had sat down next to you on the couch, a respectful distance away, and was working on making another copy of the same poster you had accidentally sat on earlier.

He looked back at you, and you could tell he was exhausted. You wanted to comfort him, to find the right words to ease his pain at least for now, but whatever train of thought you had crashed and burned as Joyce slammed the phone into the wall again. 

Jonathan seemed like he wanted to say something as well, but he looked out the window. “Mom?”

She turns to him, less aggressive than before. “What?” Jonathan stands up to get a better view of the window as you hear the low rumble of an approaching car, and you find yourself standing up too. “Cops.”

Joyce rushes out the front door, you and Jonathan not far behind. You stand there in silence as Chief Hopper walks up, holding Will’s bike in his hands. There was no Will to go along with it. 

“It was just lying there?” Now inside, Joyce was practically begging Hopper for any shred of information. At his confirmation, she continued. “Did it have any blood on it, or-“

“No, no no no no.” The police chief was dismissively calm. He motioned for the two officers that accompanied him to search around the house, taking a moment to look around for himself as Joyce anxiously followed him. 

Jonathan wasn’t far behind his mother. “If you found the bike out there, why are you here?” 

Hopper only gives them a second-long glance before continuing his search. “Well, he had a key to the house, right?” His words were laced with a hint of sarcasm, but you could tell there was genuine concern in the man. 

He may not show it, but Chief Hopper was more than the asshole front he tried to put on. You’d know- you babysat his daughter for a good amount of time. Over the years, you’d formed a weird type of bond. Since your father wasn’t around, he became somewhat of a figure to you. You wouldn’t say fatherlike, though- maybe like an uncle? It didn’t really matter anyway. Recently he seemed to try to avoid you at any and all costs.

Suddenly you felt like you were intruding on a private conversation. You pulled Jonathan aside as Joyce and Hopper spoke, told him you were going home, and quickly left. 

It was at this point you realized that Jonathan had driven you here and your car was all the way at the high school. You considered your options- you could walk home. Your home wasn’t a long walk from here, but how would you get to school in the morning? You wouldn’t be caught dead on the bike you used in middle school, and you didn’t want to bother Nancy or Jonathan, and there was no way you were taking the bus. You could walk to the high school. Sure, it’d be dark by the time you got there, but at least you’d have a way to get to school in the morning. 

The sun was setting fast, and it seemed like your choice had been made. Internally groaning, you prepared for the long walk that was ahead of you.


	5. 5

By the time you got to your car, the streetlights had turned on. You were thankful for that- you weren’t sure if Hawkins was safe at night anymore. You were more thankful, though, for the chance to rest your aching legs. Your feet felt like they were going to fall off. Walking for almost an hour would do that to you.

The long walk had given you plenty of time to think. Too much time to think, probably. You wondered about where Will could’ve gone, about Nancy’s sudden disinterest in you, about Dustin’s teenage moodiness, about Hopper’s newfound coldness, about the history test you had definitely bombed that morning. 

It was all too much for you right now. Nothing seemed to be going right in the world, you thought as you unlocked your car and slid into the driver’s seat. Absolutely nothing.

As you drove home, you noticed a familiar face biking out from the Wheeler’s garage. You slowed down, stopping next to the fourteen year old boy who was definitely out way past his curfew. “Mike, what the hell are you doing?”

He froze, awkwardly adjusting his backpack as he fumbled for an excuse. “I’m going to Lucas’s house, to uh. To study.” 

“Yeah?” You weren’t stupid. He wasn’t going to get away that easy, not with everything that’s happened lately. You don’t know what you’d do if another kid ended up missing. “Look, I know what you’re doing.” 

He bit his lip. “You do?” 

“Yeah, and as stupid as it is, I’m going to go with you.” His eyes widened, obviously not expecting this. “Look, just-“ you sighed, exasperated- “Put your bike in the back.”

As Mike was putting his bike in the trunk of your car, you looked over to the Wheeler house. Knowing Karen, she probably had her kids on lockdown. If she found out you formed a search party after dark with her son, it’d be safe to say that you wouldn’t be babysitting anymore.

Hold on. 

Was that? 

It couldn’t be. 

It was. 

Steve Harrington was trying, and failing, to climb through Nancy Wheeler’s window. 

It all made sense now. The girl you thought was your best friend was messing around with your sworn enemy. It explained her sudden detachment, why the note she held looked so familiar, why Steve was late to class. You cursed yourself for not realizing it sooner. 

Before you could begin to mourn the death of one of your only friendships, a knock on the window of the passenger side of your car broke you from your thoughts. Right, you’d forgot to unlock the door. Quickly, you leaned over to pull up the lock, waiting for Mike to get in and shut the door before driving off.

You waited until you couldn’t see the Wheeler household in your rearview mirror to speak. “You do know how stupid this is, right?” You risked a glance away from the road to look over at the boy beside you. “I’m assuming Dustin and Lucas are in on this too?” Taking his silence as a confirmation, you sighed. 

“He cast fireball.” 

“What?” You really didn’t think this was the right time to talk about that stupid game. 

“Will, he-“ Mike’s voice wavered slightly- “He could’ve casted Protection and protected himself, but he didn’t. He risked himself for the party.” Oh, you got it now. You could cast Protection and stay home where it was safe, or you could cast Fireball and risk your own lives looking for Will. It was kind of a stupid metaphor, but you understood what Mike was getting at.

“Okay, yeah, so we’re casting Fireball right now. You do realize we’d have to roll at least a 13 out of 20, right?” Realistically, the chances of you finding anything helpful was slim to zero. 

“That’s not the point!” Mike raised his voice, getting irritated now. “The point is that we have to do something!” You sighed. The boy was stubborn- you knew even if you told him not to, he’d go out to look anyway. He’d already disobeyed his own mother, so what was the point in trying to keep him home?

You took a second to think about it. You knew, deep down, that you should be doing something too. What if Will really was out there? What if you found him? The chance was small, yeah, but it was still there. You decided you had to try, for his sake.

The rest of the ride was silent, except for the occasional rumble of thunder that let you know it was going to storm soon. As you pulled up, you saw the two familiar headlights shining from the bikes of Dustin and Lucas. Somehow they’d beat you here. 

“Y/N?” Lucas looked astonished as you got out of the car, Mike doing the same. “Look, if you’re here to take us home, we’re not-“

“Chill. I’m here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” He closed his mouth, exchanging a look with Mike before huffing. 

“Hey, guys?” Dustin tilted his head up, reaching out to the sky with an open palm. “You feel that?” You could hear the nervousness in his voice as it started to rain. “I think maybe we should go back.” 

“No!” Mike retaliated almost immediately. “We’re not going back, just- stay close.” He started off, Lucas behind him. “Come on.” You looked at Dustin, who hesitated to follow. “Just stay on Channel 6. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Hey guys, wait up.” He quickly set down his bicycle before running to catch up with the other two. “Wait up!”

While the boys were talking, you had been rummaging around in your glovebox. Eventually you found what you were looking for- a mechanical, crank-powered flashlight that you kept for emergencies. Not bothering to lock your car just in case you had to make a quick escape, you quickly caught up to the boys.

“Alright, here’s the thing. I’m the oldest, so if you one of you does something stupid, I’m the one who gets in trouble.” You look at the three boys as the rain picks up. “So you’re going to follow me, okay?” They didn’t seem particularly excited by the idea, but nodded nonetheless. The four of you wandered around the woods in the pouring rain, shouting Will’s name in hopes of locating the missing boy.

“Guys, I really think we should go back.” Panic laced Dustin’s voice as he spoke. He had never quite gotten over his childhood fear of the dark- he still slept with a nightlight on, not that he’d ever admit it. 

Lucas was clearly fed up with his constant second guessing. “Seriously, Dustin? You wanna be a baby, then go home already!” 

“I’m just being realistic, Lucas!”

“No, you’re just being a big sissy!”

“Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad?”

Dustin had a point. Maybe you shouldn’t have encouraged this.

“And we’re going to the exact same spot where he was last seen?”

Yeah, he really had a point. A bad feeling was beginning to creep up your spine. 

“And we have no weapons or anything?”

“Dustin, shut up.” Mike stopped in his tracks, focused on something. 

“I’m just saying, does that seem smart to you?”

“Shut up, shut up.” The four of you froze as you heard rustling coming from somewhere in the woods. “Did you guys hear that?” 

“Yeah, I heard it. Really wish I didn’t, though-“ Anxiously, you swung your flashlight around in an attempt to find the source of the noise. You gasped as it landed on a scared looking kid. They seemed to be about the age of your brother and his friends, and looked soaked to the bone in an oversized t-shirt. “Holy shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES it took me five chapters to get through the first episode. NO i am not sorry


	6. 6

The girl you found was wrapped up in your coat, soaking wet and shivering on the couch in the Wheelers' basement. She was breathing heavily, eyes cast downward. 

"Is there a number we can call? For your parents?" 

"Where's your hair? Do you have cancer?"

"Did you run away?"

"Are in some type of trouble?" 

"Is that blood?" Lucas reached out to the girl, and you quickly swatted his hand away. 

"Okay, everyone, stop it. You're obviously freaking her out." You put your arm out in front of you, motioning for the three boys to step back. 

"She's freaking me out!" Lucas retaliated, but didn't hesitate to move back. 

"I bet she's deaf." Dustin leaned forward, clapping suddenly. The girl flinched. "Not deaf." 

You massaged your forehead with your hand. "Cut it out, will you?" You shook your head, and the three boys gave you and the girl some room. Mike seemed to be the only boy who was acting calmly, so you motioned for him to go get some of his sister's clothes. You knelt down, careful to keep a good distance from the cold, scared child. 

"My name is Y/N." She looked up at you, caution in her eyes. You pointed to the three boys behind you. "That's Dustin, my brother, and that's Lucas. The one who just left is Mike." She looked behind you at them, then returned her gaze to you. She seemed slightly less distressed. "What's your name?" 

She was silent for a while. Was she mute? You didn't know. Sighing, you began to stand up before she pulled her sleeve back. Kneeling back down, you looked at the three numbers tattooed on the inside of her wrist- 011.

"Eleven?" You slowly reached out for her hand, but she quickly pulled back. You folded your hands in your lap. "What's that mean?" Silently, she pointed to her chest, and you realized that whatever was going on here was ridiculously fucked up. "Oh, it's you- You're Eleven." She nodded. Her breathing was even now.

This situation was beyond crazy. The kid that you found cold and wet in the middle of the woods had a number instead of a name. You'd bet she didn't have a home, either. What the fuck were you supposed to do here? Call the police? No, you couldn't, because that would put you and the boys on a major lockdown. 

Your anxious thought spiral was cut short by a clap of thunder as Mike returned with a change of clothes for Eleven. She quietly reached out, hesitant, before taking the clothes and wiping the water from her face. Slowly, she stood up and began to lift up her shirt. 

"No, no, no, no-" All of the boys quickly turned around, exclaiming as you quickly pulled her shirt back down. "The bathroom's over there, okay?" You led her down the hallway, closing the door after she walked inside. Her hand shot out, blocking the door from shutting completely. "You don't want it closed?"

"...No." Her response was so quiet you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. But you could see the pleading in her eyes, and granted her wish. At least you knew she could speak now.

"Uh, I'll just... wait out here then." You turned around to give Eleven some privacy, listening as the boys argued about what to do. 

"This is mental." Dustin quipped as the three of them stood in a circle. "She tried to get naked." 

Lucas nodded. "There's something seriously wrong with her. Like, wrong in the head."

"She just went like-" Dustin pretended to pull his shirt off, knocking his hat over in the process. 

"I bet she escaped from Pennhurst."

"From where?" Mike spoke, sounding exasperated.

"The nuthouse in Kerley County."

"You got a lot of family there?" Dustin jabbed.

"Bite me." Lucas poked Dustin in the side before continuing. "Seriously, though think about it. That would explain her shaved hair and why she's so crazy." 

Lucas did have a point. Something here was definitely wrong. But do they give you tattoos instead of names in the mental hospital? You'd never been to one, but you doubted that that's how it worked. No, she came from somewhere else. 

"It would explain why she went like-" Dustin again mimicked pulling off his shirt. 

"She's an escapee is the point. She's probably a psycho." 

Dustin gasps. "Like Michael Myers."

"Exactly!" Lucas throws his hands up. "We should have never brought her here."

Mike, who had been quiet up until this point, finally snapped. "So we should have just left there out there in that storm?" 

"Yes!" Lucas stated as if it was obvious. "We went out to find Will, not another problem." 

"I think we should tell your mom."

"I second that." 

Mike's eyes widened. "Who's crazy now?!"

"How is that crazy!?"

"Cause," Mike started, "We weren't supposed to be out tonight, remember?" He placed extra emphasis on the last word, looking pointedly at both of his friends. 

Lucas shrugged, indifferent. "So?"

"So, if I tell my mom and she tells your mom and your mom..."

"Oh man."

"Our houses become Alcatraz."

"Exactly. We'll never find Will."

Lucas and Dustin looked at each other. Mike was right. You crossed your arms, leaning back against the wall next to the doorway to the bathroom. You couldn't deny his reasoning- if any of your parents found out, you'd never see the light of day again. 

"Alright, here's the plan." Mike straightened. "She sleep here tonight." 

Dustin's eyes widened. "You're letting a girl-"

"Just listen!" He put his arms out, tired of the constant interruptions. "In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She'll send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from- we'll be totally in the clear." Lucas and Dustin still seemed unconvinced, exchanging another look. "And tomorrow night, we go back out." Mike's voice is filled with determination. "And this time, we find Will."

The boys are quiet as Eleven emerges from the bathroom, now dressed. Lucas sighs and starts to climb the staircase, and you check the time- you and Dustin should really be heading home too. Eleven grabs ahold of your shirt as you start to ascend after Lucas, and you stop and turn around. 

"Hey, it's okay." You offer her a comforting smile. "Mike's going to take care of you, alright?" Gently, you pry her hand off of your shirt before giving it a squeeze. She silently nods, and you just barely catch a ghost of a smile on her face before you turn around and leave.

Dustin and Lucas lingered at the top of the staircase as you spoke with Eleven. "You really think she's psycho?" 

Lucas shook his head. "Wouldn't want her in my house." With that, he left.

Dustin sighed, turning around to follow as you came up the stairs. "Mental."


	7. 7

You held up the thin piece of paper, keeping it still as Jonathan put the thumbtacks in. This was a process you had repeated what felt like hundreds of times this morning. The two of you had been putting missing posters up around town, and now you found yourselves at the high school, putting them on any board with free space. 

The experience from last night still weighed heavy on your mind, and you wondered how Eleven was doing. Had she talked to Mike’s mom yet? Was she back from the nuthouse or wherever she came from? Part of you hoped she wasn’t- wherever she came from had obviously fucked her up.

“Hey.” You heard Nancy’s soft voice behind you, but didn’t bother to turn around. 

Jonathan, not having a reason to ignore her, was the better person and actually responded. “Oh, hey.” 

“I just... I wanted to say, you know, um-“ she paused, looking for the right words- “I’m sorry, about everything.” Jonathan was quiet. “Everyone’s thinking about you,” Nancy offered. “It sucks.” 

“Yeah,” was all he could muster up in response. 

“Y/N-“ Nancy turned her attention to you, and your grip tightened on the stack of poster copies in your hands. “I’m-“

You whipped around, cutting her off. “You’re what? You’re sorry? For what?” You scoffed. “Sorry for ditching me? Sorry for fraternizing with the enemy? Sorry for me because I’m not popular enough for you anymore? What?” You didn’t expect the words to come tumbling out like they did- the anger had been building so slowly that you didn’t realize how much of it there was until it overflowed. “Sorry that you’re hanging with Tommy H and Carol of all people now? Sorry that you’re obviously screwing Steve Harrington?”

Nancy stood there, stunned, but the bell rang before she could retaliate. Not that you’d have given her a chance to, anyway, because you’d already stormed out the front doors of the school.

Jonathan joined you not long after. He gave you a questioning look, having witnessed your outburst, but you averted your gaze and silently got in his car. 

The car ride to Lonnie’s place was quiet and tense. After it was clear that he wasn’t going to get an explanation out of you, Jonathan turned on the stereo in an effort to fill the uneasy silence that enveloped the car. The cassette that played was one of Jonathan’s own mixes- one that he made for Will, actually- and it had a number of his brother’s favorite songs on it. 

You guessed hearing it was even more painful than nothing at all, because Jonathan turned it off before the first song could finish.

Eventually you were out of Hawkins and in the city. The weather was bleak as Jonathan drove along a stretch of small houses packed tightly next to each other, eventually stopping across from one that looked particularly dingy. 

“Hey.” Before you could get out of the car, he grabbed your wrist. You silently looked up at him. “Stay here. My dad... Lonnie, he’s-“ Jonathan cut himself off. 

It was obvious he didn’t want you to meet him, so you folded your hands in your lap. “Okay.” You offered him a warm smile as he let go of your hand, “Good luck.” He returned the smile before getting out of the car and quickly walking up to the front porch. 

You lost sight of Jonathan after he pushed his way past the young-looking woman who opened the door. You understood his distaste for his father- after all, yours had walked out similarly to his. The situation was a little different, though. Jonathan was able to contact Lonnie- he knew where he lived, he could call him, he saw him on occasion. Their relationship wasn’t pleasant, but it was there.

Your father disappeared without a trace. No address, no number, no nothing. You were old enough to remember when it happened, but Dustin was just a baby. He didn’t see how much it ruined your mother. He didn’t remember her downward spiral into what she was now. He didn’t know about the many short-lived boyfriends that came after the man that destroyed her. The man that destroyed your perception of love. The man that destroyed you.

Maybe it was for the best that Dustin didn’t know anything about his own father. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. 

After a while, Jonathan returned. It was obvious that he didn’t find Will, and whatever he did find had left a bad taste in his mouth. You decided to respect his privacy just as he has respected yours earlier, and silently stared down at the poster in your hands as he started the drive back to Hawkins.

You sighed as you looked at the picture of Will, blurry but recognizable. He didn’t deserve this. Neither did Jonathan, or Joyce, or Mike or Lucas or Dustin. Eleven definitely didn’t deserve any of what she’d been handed, though you didn’t know what exactly what it was she’d got. No one deserved this.

You wonder whatever happened to Eleven.


	8. 8

Mirkwood itself wasn’t a real place- it was a real road, but was nickname the boys had come up with, given to the spot where the roads Cornwallis and Kerley met. It was from Lord of the Ring, or maybe the Hobbit, but the important thing about Mirkwood wasn’t its name but the fact that it was not only where Will was last seen but where you had also found Eleven.

You were there for the second night in a row, wandering aimlessly behind Jonathan as he snapped pictures. What the point was, you weren’t sure, but it seemed like some sort of coping tool for him. Because of that, you didn’t tell him how useless it was. You just silently stood and watched.

Out of nowhere you heard a shrill scream, and despite the fact that this was the same place where not one but two mysterious events took place, you dashed off towards the source of the sound without a second thought. 

As you came upon a clearing in the brush, you slowed, staying low to the ground. Voices could be heard in the distance, but you’d have to get closer to understand what they were saying. Risking a peek above the bush you were hiding behind, you couldn’t believe your eyes at what you saw. 

There was a huge house in front of you, with a large pool to match. A few familiar faces were lounging by the poolside- you watched with wide, unbelieving eyes as Nancy Wheeler shotgunned an entire can of beer, cheered on by none other than Steve, Tommy, and Carol. The only one in the small party who didn’t seem interested was Barb, who sat off to the side looking awfully lonely. It hurt your heart to see her- maybe you weren’t the only person Nancy had thrown to the wayside for her new, popular friends.

At some point Jonathan had joined you without you noticing, and the sudden, loud snap of his camera made you jump. You quickly looked over, pushing his camera down. “Are you crazy?” You spoke in a harsh whisper. “They’ll see us.”

Jonathan huffed and raised the camera again- this time, you snatched it out of his hands. “Y/N,” he said, exasperated, and extended his arm.

You held it away from his reach. “How are we going to explain this if we get caught?”

“We’re taking pictures for evidence.” 

“Evidence for what? The fact that my friend backstabbed me?” You paused, looking again at how happy Nancy seemed with her new friends. You shook your head, turning back to Jonathan. “What does this have to do with your brother?”

He was silent, dropping his arm and looking down at the ground. The mere mention of his brother took a toll on him- sighing, you gave him his camera back and offered an apologetic smile. “Look, if you wanna stalk them, be my guest. Just don’t mention I was here when they catch you.” You pat his shoulder, and he gives you the closest thing you’ve heard to his laugh in days before you turn around and leave.

Once again, you had to walk in the dark. You’d been with Jonathan all day, so naturally he had picked you up in his car that morning. Meaning, your car was still at home. Luckily, the walk home was nowhere near as bad as the walk to the high school you’d taken yesterday- shit, was it only yesterday? 

Now that you thought about it, Will had only gone missing on Sunday night. It was Tuesday. The past few days felt like weeks, and you cursed yourself as you realized you had missed an important chemistry test today. But Jonathan had missed it too, and seeing as he was your partner, maybe he could help you study. 

You knew about the rumors that often flew around about you and the oldest Byers. Since both of you were natural loners, you really only had each other and your brothers. And now that Will was gone, Jonathan really only had you. You’d spent more time together in the last two days than you could ever remember- and people had taken notice, apparently, because you’d heard whispers here and there.

Normally gossip didn’t bother you. You’d dealt with it since the sixth grade, when Steve decided to tear up your reputation in order to reach a new royal status. It hurt you pretty deep at first, but as time went on you had gotten used to it. The words that used to feel like knives in your back now only felt like pinpricks, and these days you usually had a nasty retort of your own. You refused to just sit there and take it- especially when another person is roped in.

You didn’t like Jonathan, not that way. He wasn’t into you either, as far as you could tell, because it seemed like he had eyes for a certain “friend” of yours. You chuckled as you thought about it. The world seemed to be robbing you of your friends, one by one. At this rate, you wouldn’t have any left by Thanksgiving. 

As you reached your painful realization, you saw you had also reached the front steps of your house. Feeling your pockets, you cursed as you realized you’d left your keys- along with your bag- in Jonathan’s car. Luckily, you remembered the key you keep hidden under the doormat, and squat down only to find it missing. 

You heard the jingling of keys behind you. “Looking for this?” 

For the first time in days, you heard the voice of your mother. You turned around, tense. 

For the first time in weeks, you saw that she had a new fling. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like he saw you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up there will be themes of abuse/assault in the coming chapters


	9. 9

“I’m telling you, my mom’s lost it.” Jonathan looked away from the developing pictures to where you stood leaning against the wall. Though the room was only lit by a singular red bulb, you could see the exasperation in his face. “I mean, I don’t even know when the last time she slept was.” 

You shrugged, not really wanting to say anything. You thought something was seriously up with Joyce, too, but you couldn’t just say that to her son- even if he was the one who brought it up. Instead you diverted your attention to the photos that were clipped to the line. They were the ones he had taken last night, after you’d left. 

Like his mother, something wasn’t right about Jonathan lately. Not that you’d say anything, though, because they both had a very good reason to be. A Byers had gone missing, after all, and it was hard to expect the ones that remained to act completely normal.

That being said, the pictures were still definitely... creepy. You couldn’t refute the fact that it gave off major stalker vibes. But it wasn’t like you could tell Jonathan this, since you’d also lingered longer than you should’ve, so you hesitantly looked the other way. 

“I’m just really worried about her. The lights- she thinks he’s trying to talk to her through the lights.”

Before you can respond, you’re interrupted at Nicole walks in. You smile at her, and she greets the two of you before messing with her camera. Her eyes drift upwards, and her hands stop moving for a second before resuming, faster now. Jonathan scrambles to take down his pictures, shoving them into his bag, but the look on her face tells you she saw them.

She didn’t keep her mouth shut about it, either, because later that day you and Jonathan emerge from the school to find Tommy, Carol, Steve, and a smug-looking Nicole perched on the hood of Jonathan’s car.

“Hey, man.” Steve casually slid off, stepping close to the two of you. The others followed suit. 

“What’s going on?” Jonathan looked around, suspicious. 

“Jonathan!” You gave him a light smack on the shoulder, before giving Steve a mocking smile. “That’s no way to speak to your King.” You curtsied, making sure to keep eye contact with the boy who had once been your best friend. “To what do we owe the honor to, your royal highness?” 

Steve glared at you, silent, before looking at Jonathan. “Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work.” 

“We’ve heard great things.” Carol spoke up inbetween loud smacking of gum. 

Tommy, with his arm slung around her, agreed. “Yeah, sounds cool.”

“And we’d just love to take a look,” Steve said casually. “You know, as... connoisseurs of art.”

You laughed incredulously. “Oh yeah? An art connoisseur- and here I thought the only pictures you looked at were the ones in Playboy.” A smirk played on your face as Steve shot you a dirty look. 

“Shut up. Show us the pictures, huh?”

Jonathan sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pushed his way past the group, only to get his bag stolen by Tommy. “Hey-“

“Oh, no? Oh...” Steve smiled slyly.

“Please, give me my bag.” Jonathan rushed to grab it from Tommy, who threw it to Steve before he could reach it. 

“Man, he is totally trembling. He must really have something to hide.” Steve began opening the bag. “Ah... Here we go.” He pulled out the stack of photos as you and Jonathan stood there silently. “Oh, man.”

“Let me see.” Tommy takes the pictures from him, flipping through them before looking at Jonathan. “Dude,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all.” 

“I was looking for my brother-“

“No.” Steve cut him off. “No, this is called stalking. Mmm-hmm.”

Nancy showed up, immediately sensing the tension. “What’s going on?” She laughed awkwardly, looking around at the group. 

“Here’s the starring lady.”

“What?”

“This creep was spying on us last night.” Nancy looked over at Jonathan as Carol spoke. “He was probably gonna save this one for later.” Carol handed her a picture.

Steve clicked his tongue as Nancy looked at the picture. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but...” He stepped close to Jonathan. “Man, that’s the thing about perverts...” You smack Steve’s arm away as he messes with Jonathan’s collar. “It’s hard wired into them, you know. They just can’t help themselves.”

“So...” Tommy laughs as Steve rips up the pictures in his hands. “We’ll just have to take away his toy.” He turns, dogging through the bag.

“No please, not the camera-“ Jonathan immediately rushes to grab it from Steve’s hands, only to be pushed back by Tommy. 

“Hey, hey.” Steve says calmly as Tommy chuckles. “It’s okay.” He holds the camera out. “Here you go, man.”

Before Jonathan can grab it, though, he lets it slip from his hands. “Oops.” 

Your fist collides with Steve’s nose before you can even think about it.

”Aw, this is cute.” Tommy throws a punch to your stomach as Steve stumbles back into the car, bringing his hand up to his nose. You double over, trying hard not to vomit. He’d hit you where you were already bruised pretty badly. The pain was enough to make you see stars, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out in pain. “His girlfriend fights his battles for him.”

You can see him pulling his arm back, preparing for another hit, and prepare yourself. 

It doesn’t come. 

“Tommy, stop, it’s not worth it.” Steve, wiping the blood from his nose, steps between the two of you. He glares down at you, but for a split second you notice something change- you thought you could see the little boy you grew up with.

It doesn’t last long. In the blink of an eye King Steve was back. “Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.” 

As you slowly rise up you see that everyone had left except for Nancy and Jonathan, who were staring at the broken camera on the pavement. Nancy looked up at you, guilt and apology clear in her eyes, but you averted your gaze, straightening as best you could and walking over to the passenger side of Jonathan’s car and pulling aggressively on the door handle.

Apparently all of the strange occurrences in Hawkins had gotten to him, because for once the door was locked. You cursed, hitting the window out of frustration. A shock of pain went up your arm- you looked down to find you knuckles bruised and bloodied. Whether it was from the window or Steve’s face, you didn’t know and didn’t care. You just wanted to get your stuff and get the fuck out of here. 

When you look back where the camera lay shattered, you notice Nancy had disappeared, presumably joining Steve. Jonathan was on the ground, holding what was left of the pictures in his hands. It hurt to see- that camera was the only thing he had left. 

Silently, you walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. He stands and looks at you without a word, handing you his keys before looking back down at the carnage. 

You unlock the car and grab your stuff, giving Jonathan back his keys and enveloping him in a hug. You can feel him shaking, and he stands there for a while before he finally hugs you back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> having major writer’s block atm so it’ll probably be a while before the next update... do you guys want me to keep going bc idk if anyone’s really reading this


	10. 10

Steve still remembers the day his father gave him the worst advice in the world.

"Pretend like she doesn't exist."

It was a hot, humid September afternoon. The next day would be Steve's first at Hawkins Middle. His father had sat him down, lighting a cigarette as he lectured about how to become a ladies man. At the time, Steve didn't know any better- he listened intently to each and every word.

"It'll drive her crazy."

Asking his father for romantic advice was the first of many mistakes that led Steve to where he was now, hunched over the bathroom sink with a broken and bloody nose.

"She'll practicality be begging for your attention."

He let out a dry chuckle at the memory. One hand tightly gripped the edge of the sink- the other held up a wad of paper towels that was becoming redder with every second that passed. 

"That bitch will be yours before you know it."

Steve also remembers the nights he came home to a woman who wasn't his mother, and the nights where arguments sung him to sleep. He remembered the family dinners that began with forced smiles and ended with doors slammed shut.

Now, as he looked at himself in the mirror, he remembered that the man was dogshit in every sense of the term. Horrible husband, even worse father- not the type of person to be giving out advice to impressionable young boys, in any case. 

He studied his features. His nose had swollen and was turning a sickly shade of purple. It was a grisly reminder, a physical manifestation of just how badly he'd fucked up. 

The adrenaline had blocked out the pain at first, and all he could focus on was the feeling of absolute betrayal- this was the final nail in the coffin that held what was once your inseparable friendship. 

How could he blame you, though, when Steve had been the one building it from the beginning? He'd gathered the wood and assembled it. Laid the broken relationship inside. Put the cover on. Steve's broken nose was only the consequence of a long list of mistakes- mistakes that he'd made, not you. Deep down he knew that it was all his fault.

Back then, when Steve was just a scared little boy- you'd always been there. You had always stood up for him, no matter how many black eyes or meetings with the principal it meant. 

The memories were bittersweet as he looked back upon them with a mature lens. 

They filled him with a profound sort of hatred. He hated how you were always taking pain for the sake of others, how selfless you were and how selfish he'd been.

The first major mistake Steve made was listening to his father's advice.

The second was abandoning you when you needed him most.

Granted, he didn't know at the time. He didn't understand it when he was younger. He had brushed aside the mysterious, circular burns that littered your arms, ignored all the inexplicable busted lips. He had never realized what was happening until it was already too late.

The feeling of warmth on his hand made Steve realize that the wad of paper towels he held had long since reached its limit of how much it could soak up. Only then was he aware of how tightly he gripped it, and silently he disposed of the bloodied napkins before washing his hands and leaving the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was rushed sorry it’s short


	11. 11

That night you went to the only place you could have a moment to yourself to think- Sattler Quarry.

The quarry was full of water and not much else. Once owned and operated by Frank Sattler of the Sattler Company, it had long since been depleted of its natural wealth and was consequently deserted because of this. 

The scenery was beautiful, you mused to yourself as you stood upon a rock, despite the eeriness that lingered over the water like a dense fog. 

Sighing, you sat down on the rock and dangled your legs over the edge. The thought of falling sent a shiver down your spine, but carelessly you peered down at the water anyway. 

If you had to guess, you'd say it was about 200-250 feet from where you were now to the surface of the water, and who knew how deep the water went?

Regardless of accuracy, it was safe to say that it was a long way down.

Looking down at the sharp drop you remembered the drunken ravings of a certain George Burness, one of many flings your mom had brought home one night. 

"Did you know," he'd slurred as he looked over you in a way that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, "that I once jumped into that quarry?" 

It was bullshit, obviously. A drop from that height was lethal no matter how much water there was to break your fall.

Your mother's many boyfriends had always been bullshit. She seemed to have an unparalleled talent in that regard- you'd almost think she enjoyed having her heart broken.

You knew she didn't. She was the shell of the woman you could only remember in pictures. That woman shattered shortly after Dustin was born, when your father left, when you were just barely able to babble out a coherent word. 

Despite how young you were, you still maintained the memory of the light in her eyes that had died out a long time ago. Dustin didn't have that luxury, or the heartache that came with it. Though your memorizes were hazy and tinted through the lenses of nostalgia, they were undeniably there. He was just a baby. 

Dustin was an absolute gremlin and you adored him so, so much. You hated him- in the sibling way, though, where you'd absolutely put yourself through hell for him. 

You found yourself shivering, not from the November Indiana cold winds, but from the mounting realization that you had.

Not literal hell, obviously, but the kind of hell that ate at you, that stops at nothing until it consumes you.

The kind of hell that couldn't be washed away by water.

The stale ache in your stomach throbs as if on cue, and your thoughts return to the event that had occurred just hours ago in the parking lot of Hawkins High.

Tommy had hit you right where some of the worst bruises were, hard enough to see stars. It wasn't the worst pain you'd felt in your life, but it was definitely up there.

Still, it was enough to make you collapse right where you were. 

When you saw Tommy preparing to hit you again, some overdramatic part of you thought maybe it was the end- that maybe this was how you died, in the parking lot of your hometown's high school. 

The finishing blow never came, though. Steve had made sure of that.

It baffled you. Why didn't Steve let him keep going? He had every right to- hell, you'd basically just broken his nose in front of his girlfriend and his posse. Part of you wondered why he didn't join in himself.

Frustrated, you tossed a nearby stone into the water below. It fell for some time before you heard the satisfying splash. 

The rock you had thrown was fairly large, and the ripples it made in the once perfectly still water almost invited you closer.

It was beautiful, and it got your mind off of everything. It just the brief release you were craving, and before you knew it you were throwing every rock you could lift into the quarry.

It didn't make you feel better, really. It was just a temporary distraction from the thought that haunted you, but that didn't mean it wasn't welcome. 

As if in a trance, you watched the small ripples collide with each other. You couldn't look away- something in the back of your mind told you not to.

Something caught your eye, bobbing up and down in the water.

It was weird but not too far out of the ordinary. Whatever it was must've been disturbed by the rock you'd tossed. You looked closer.

It took everything you had not to throw up when you realized what the waves had brought to the surface.


	12. 12

You got to the Byers household as quickly as you could, definitely breaking more than a few traffic laws on your way there. Now you were on the front doorstep, frantically knockingin the hopes that someone, anyone was home.

As you pounded on the door, it occurred to you that you weren't quite sure why coming here had been your first instinct. Were you going to deliver the news yourself? Use the phone to call the police? Not say anything at all? You had arrived as if on autopilot- no specific plan in mind.

You didn't have any time to make one, either, because the door swung open before you could finish your thought. It was so quick that it made you jump, and an exhausted yet apologetic Joyce Byers wordlessly waved you inside.

Immediately upon entering the house you realized why Jonathan thought his mother had "lost it."

It was a sight to behold. Christmas lights were strung up all around, hundreds of novelty bulbs that were easily worth thousands of dollars. The landline was fried and torn out of the wall; a rotary phone with a similar scorch mark on the receiver was on the floor.

You turn your gaze from the main hallway to the living room. Nails were hammered haphazardly into the wall; yet more lights were draped over them, strung up in sloppy lines. Each bulb had a corresponding letter in thick black paint beneath it, spelling out the alphabet. They were still wet, making it apparent that this was what Joyce had been doing upon your arrival.

"Mrs. Byers..." Slowly, you turned to the woman who stood silently beside you. "Look, I need to-"

"Shhhhh." She's quick to cut you off, holding up a finger. She doesn't give so much as a glance in your direction, instead giving her full attention to the letters on the wall. "Okay, baby, talk to me." Her voice is hoarse, leaving you to wonder how long it's been since she's had a proper glass of water. Her eyes are sunken, backing up Jonathan's earlier assertion that she hadn't slept in god knows how long, so it wasn't a far off bet that she'd neglected her other needs. "Talk to me."

You look on incredulously- it's obvious that wasn't directed at you. It's then that you remember what Jonathan had told you back in the developing room, about the lights and how his mother thought Will was trying to talk to her through them.

You can't let her go on like this. "Mrs. Byers." You try again, with a little more force this time. You hate to shatter the woman's hopes, but you know what you saw down in the quarry.

She doesn't respond, still focused solely on the wall as she nervously wrings her hands. "Where are you?"

There's a short, painful silence while you try to figure out the best way to break the news to the poor woman before you see it- the unmistakeable glow of a single bulb. It’s so bright that it hurts your eyes, but you couldn’t look away if you tried.

_R_

_I_

_G_

_H_

_T_

_H_

_E_

_R_

_E_

You're speechless, and as you stare at the wall that is dark once again you start to think you're imagining things. You find yourself anxiously looking around for any sign that this is all smoke and mirrors, some cruel and elaborate trick being played on the two of you.

“Right here... I-“ Joyce begins to speak, stammering- “I don’t know what that means.” She’s quiet for a second, and when she starts again her voice begins to waver. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

Joyce saw it too, confirming that you hadn’t lost your mind just yet. If this really was Will, and he really was right here, then where was he? Every nook and cranny of the house had been searched ten times over. And what about the body you saw down in the quarry? You bring your hand to your mouth, another wave of nausea hitting you as you begin to feel overwhelmed.

“What should I do?” Joyce pleads, desperate. “How do I get to you? How do I find you?” The words tumble out of her mouth so quickly they slur a little. “What should I do?” she asks again, begging for an answer. One by one, the lights begin to spell out something new.

_R_

_U_

_N_

You hear a number of sickening cracks and squelches as the lights in the house flash erratically. Gasping, you turn to look at Joyce, who looks back in your direction for the first time since you’d arrived. Her attention isn’t on you, though, and when you turn around to follow her gaze you’re met face to face with some kind of monster trying to claw its way out of the wall.

You scream, stumbling backwards as the creature begins to tear through. What you assume are its hands are pale and veiny, and you feel yourself get lightheaded upon seeing them. You’ve never felt pure, raw fear like this before.

After multiple sleepless nights, a fight, and whatever the fuck this thing is supposed to be, your body finally decides it’s had enough and you pass out just as the wall opens up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn’t forget about this i promise
> 
> expect more (and better) chapters in the coming days


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short update. sorry for the hiatus. just needed to force this chapter out.

Well, someone needed to call up whoever created the modern interpretation of Hell and tell them they’d fucked up big time.

For starters, when you look around, there’s no fire. 

It’s damp, and dim, and there’s a horrible smell. You’re up to your ankles in what you hope is water, and despite the darkness that’s shrouding and suffocating you, the place seems to emit enough of its own weak light that you can just barely make out the silloutte of your hands when you look down.

And it’s quiet. 

There’s no screaming of the dammed. No one’s begging for forgiveness here. For a second you think maybe you’ve gone deaf. The only thing you can hear is the echo of your own heavy breathing. Has it always been this hard to breathe?

You’re not alone, though. The shiver that runs up your spine tells you there’s someone- or something- else here, before any of your senses can. 

You’re glad you can’t see whatever it is; you get the feeling that looking upon the monster for even a second would drive you mad, that it was more than the humankind could ever safely and sanely comprehend.

Still, you can feel its presence, looming above you, and it’s not like anything you’ve ever experienced. You’ve never felt pure, unadulterated fear like this before. You hope you never will again.

Earlier, you’d thought you were in Hell. Now, the realization sneaks up on you that you weren’t dead- not yet. Whatever this was, where ever you were, it was the space in between. Reality, but turned inside out. Existence, but upside down.

You’re not supposed to be here. 

You’ve been glued to the same spot for what feels like hours now, and the nameless and faceless apparition stays where it is, watching and waiting. Its almost palpable gaze is undeniably predatory. You’re defenseless- now would be the perfect time to strike, but it just sits there. Watching. Waiting.

YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

Something pinches at the nape of your neck, aimed perfectly at the top of your spine, and suddenly every nerve in your body is filled with fire.

All you can feel is fire.

You don’t know how you end up on your side, writhing as the pain consumes you. The shallow water does nothing to douse the flames that’s managed to harm every fiber of your being.

It’s so loud now. 

There’s an animalistic shrieking. The sound is so broken, so strangled that you don’t even recognize that it’s your own screams that fill the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> this is only my second work ever. let me know if there’s any typos, kudos/comments appreciated :)


End file.
